


The worm in the birthday wish

by HarleyJade



Category: Ylvis
Genre: Drinking, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 09:41:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3932077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarleyJade/pseuds/HarleyJade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bård is turning 18 today, which is the legal drinking age... and he has wish :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The worm in the birthday wish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pyou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pyou/gifts).



> Happy Happy birthday, my lovely twin :-*

"Naw, Vegard... Like THIS!" Bård insisted, and he once again demonstrated-- though rather unsteadily-- how to moisten the back of the hand below the index finger, pour on the salt, though most of it ended up on the floor, and how to lick off the salt. It took him three tries to find his hand, drink the tequila, and bite the lime wedge.  
Vegard, nodding in understanding, attempted again to repeat Bård's instructions-- but with little success. He managed to take the drink, however-- as he had been doing all evening. Whatever else happened, he never spilled one drop of the liquid.  
They'd been at it for some time, a birthday wish of Bård's that Vegard had reluctantly agreed to.  
“I mean seriously," he had said when the subject of what type of celebration he wanted for this momentous birthday. "I'm too old for the cake and ice cream stuff! I wanna do somethin' grownup!"  
"I don't care, there is NO way I'm giving you a lap dance!" Calle had replied angrily, causing Bård to stare in stunned surprise and Calle and Vegard stifle snorts of mirth at a joke gone well.  
“C'mon, Vegard," Bård then turned to Vegard. "Just you an' me, okay? I won't even invite anyone else. Let's just you and me have some fun!"  
"But our friends--"  
"They can take a hike! C'mon, Vegard! You and me don't get to do that much stuff together-- unless it's lecturing me for being lazy. I want to do this! Just you and me, doing something grownup!"  
"Very well," Vegard had finally agreed. "Just you and me, bro. Doing something 'grownup'."  
So Vegard had procured a fine bottle of tequila for the occasion. Bård, seeing that there was no worm, had immediately produced a fake one (once Bård had left the kitchen to put his other presents in his room) and insisted that Vegard put it in the bottle.  
"So that it'll be authentic. wonder if it tastes nasty."  
"The worm isn't IN tequila," Vegard had pointed out disdainfully as he cleared up the table from the birthday dinner Vegard had insisted they all participate in before "fun time". "It's in mezcal. And it tastes like the mezcal as it's been cooked and pickled in the alcohol for a year."  
“Sorry, Bård," the older brother said after dropping the lime on the floor (along with the salt shaker), "but could you demonstrate one more time? I seem to be unable to do it. I guess I must be a slow learner in drinking."  
Vegard appeared so embarrassed as he spoke these last words that Bård, normally one who might exploit such a weakness in his big brother, and already being very drunk, teared up at the revelation and only JUST managed to hide his sympathy.  
"Sure bro," he gushed, leaning forward with fixed determination as he focused on the limes. "See, first.. FIRST... you got to lick your hand like THIS!"  
And, grabbing Vegard's hand, he proceeded to demonstrate.  
"THEN... the salt," he nodded emphatically, and the salt flew like a snowstorm. Very little seemed to end up on Vegard's hand.  
"An' then you slug it down, and bite the lime!" and the shot of tequila ended up more on Bård's chin than in his mouth, and he swallowed the lime accidentally. It lodged for a brief moment in his throat, then Vegard, with a sharp slap to his brother's back, managed to induce Bård to cough it back up.  
"Are you okay,Bård?"  
Bård grinned with tears in his eyes.  
"You saved m' life," he slurred, adoration dripping from each drunken word. "Again! You saved m' life when I wuz an iddle widdle teeny weeny lil' baby when we were in Afrika... hic... I don' deserve such a brother. I don'..."  
"How did you become so skilled in drinking anyways?" Vegard casually asked, as he passed a napkin to Bård, more to distract him from the emotional turn the conversation threatened to take than anything else.  
"Oh, you know... you read stuff…" Bård, despite so many shots, was wise enough to not incriminate himself. "An' I seen it in a movie. An' 'sides, it's kinda like beer. Only without the salt and lime."  
Vegard accepted this without further comment and then (cleaning his hand from when his brother had licked it), proceeded to do three tequila shots in a row with no trouble.  
Bård paused in his own preparations for the next shot, admiration mixed with awe shining from his red eyes at this suddenly successful achievement of his brother's.  
"I... am... the GREATES' TEACHER inna World!" he crowed, jumping up and pumping the air with both fists for all of ten seconds before toppling to the floor. Vegard got up to check on his little brother.  
"Damn floor," Bård grumbled, already getting to his knees. "We need ta fix it. It isn’t safe, being able to move like that! What if it tips like that when you're home alone and you break a hip or something? It ain't like you are getting any younger, you know!"  
"I will fix it first thing in the morning," Vegard replied.  
Bård nodded fiercely as he accepted his brother's help up off the floor.  
"Good, cause if he don't fix it, and you fall and break a hip or something, I’m gonna whip your ass!"  
Vegard merely smiled.  
"No, really!" Bård asserted sincerely, swaying on his feet as he attempted to make steady eye contact with Vegard. "I mean, look at all that gray hair yer sportin'...” 21 year old Vegard actually chuckled at this. “… not gettin' any younger... gotta be careful, you know! Are you drinking enough milk? Gotta take care of them bones. Old guys like you get that ospreyoporopus and... well, not that I mean you are really old... I mean, no disrespect, Vegard, but... well, you know..."  
"None taken, bro," Vegard replied, as they both sat down again at the table. "Let’s have another round!”  
"Okay, Vegard, but are you sure you should be drinking anymore?" Bård cheerfully agreed, alcohol-fueled emotions swinging wildly once again in a 180 degree arc. His brow ridge wrinkled in concern. "I mean, yer lookin' a bit unsteady there... yer swaying in yer seat there... ha, ya STILL haven't got it! Look... FIRST, ya gots ta..."  
A few shots later, and Bård was waxing nostalgically about his earliest memories.  
"... and then, when ya got sick that time," he was sniffling, tears and snot dripping down his face, "and I had that idea ta go to the store..."  
Vegard merely handed another napkin to his brother, who with a "thanks" noisily blew his nose-- and missed the napkin. Fortunately it wasn't the hand that he was licking the salt from.  
"Anyways, like I was sayin'," he started up again, after cleaning himself up. "It's jus' so cool that you agreed ta do this tonight! I mean it! I always knew ya wasn't the tight-ass ya pretended ta be! I always knew ya was--"  
"Bård, let me pour you a drink," Vegard cut him off before he could say anymore.  
Bård nearly teared up again at the gesture. When Vegard had filled both shot glasses, Bård took his and held it up, an emotional smile on his face.  
"To Veggie Ylvisåker... I mean Vegard... sorry…”   
Vegard held up his own glass and clinked it to Bård's less steady one that he still held in mid-toast.  
"To you, little brother. Happy Birthday."  
Bård beamed at that.  
"Happy Birthday!" he responded, and managed to down the shot without spilling it. Then, wiping his mouth, he gazed at Vegard again. So many gray hairs. So many! "All my fault," he sniffled out his thought. "All that gray hair, makin' ya look so old and frail and..."  
"One shot left for the birthday kid," Vegard interrupted and offered the bottle to his brother. He started to get a little paranoid, did he maybe really grow grey hair in the last couple of hours?   
Bård blinked in surprise. There was some left? They must have done like eleventy-seven shots tonight! He gazed at the bottle Vegard held before his unfocused eyes. Looked like there was three bottles left, not one! An' all three of them had that lil' plastic worm in 'em...  
"I hate bugs," he slurred, trying to take the bottle and failing on the first few grabs. He'd forgotten that he'd added the plastic worm "so's you get the hell outta here and leave us alone! But why do they gotta treat that poor lil' worm like that, stickin' it in a bottle of alcohol? It's unhuman. No, wait-- inhuman. Yeah. I always have trouble with 'un' an' 'in'."  
And he took the last drink of the tequila, careful not to swallow the worm. Instead he shook it with some difficulty out of the bottle and cupped it in his hand. For a moment he contemplated the wet plastic thing, as if seeing it for the first time.  
"Poor lil' worm... I'll set you free!" he said, getting out of his chair and lurching away from the kitchen, his brother following along to make sure he did not leave the house.  
"Booorrrrn freeeeee... as free as the wind blows..."  
Vegard was hard-pressed NOT to laugh. He was grateful that their parents were out.  
As he followed, he knew that the evening would soon be over. Eyeing his brother expertly, he knew all he had to do was to get him to sit down and he'd soon be asleep.  
"C'mon, Wormy," Bård was now cooing to the fake worm. "Soon you'll be roamin' the free world. Jus' stay away from them blue agave plants."  
"Bård," Vegard got his attention, even as he managed to steer him towards the couch. "Before you set the worm free, I want to speak with you."  
"Sure! Anythin' for my dear old dearest brother!" he grinned, and staggered his way to the couch, when he fell more than sat, sprawling out and absently reaching for the remote and dropping the worm.  
"Bård," Vegard said, seating himself in his chair, even as Bård turned on the tv. Bård blinked in surprise at the sound of Vegard's voice.  
"Huh? Oh, hi Vegard," he smiled. "Ya wanna watch some tv?"  
"No," he replied, even as the telltale signs of drunken sleep began to show themselves on his brother. "I just wanted ask if you liked your birthday."  
Bård sat there, appearing to be thinking about the question. He drew in a breath as if he were about to answer, then let it out as his head nodded forward, eyes closing.  
Vegard smiled. Question answered.   
He got up and helped his brother settle into a comfortable position on the couch, fetched a blanket, and shut off the tv and lights. Their parents would be home soon. And in the morning, there would be plenty of work for Vegard to do, what with keeping a hung-over Bård from trying to kill a devilishly teasing Bjarte. Plus, he needed to do homework, but that could probably wait.  
In the kitchen, Vegard cleared up the remnants of their night of doing something "grownup", then made sure what he would need to deal with Bård's hangover first thing in the morning.  
Finished, he picked up his glass with his last shot untouched. With practiced ease he moistened his hand, applied the salt, licked it off, downed the shot with one quick motion, and bit into the lime, and chuckled to himself as he thought back over the night's activities.  
"You do it like THIS, Vegard..." he could hear in his mind, and shook his head in amusement. And he went to bed.


End file.
